[Douglas G. Brown]

STELLA’S BIRTHDAY [1718 / 9] BROUGHT UP TO DATE

(If Jonathan Swift and Esther Johnson lived in modern times, and were schoolmates.)

When we were chums in seventh grade, a hundred pounds was all you weighed.
You were so scrawny, poor, and chaste; and had a 21 inch waist.
But, Stell, you’d flaunt your budding boobs, which wowed the preppies and the rubes,
( Though you confessed your greatest thrill came after you’d consumed your fill.).

In high school, you said "what the hell", and shed your moralistic shell;
A smile from you would knock the socks off trust-fund kids and football jocks.
But I was just a Classics geek, while Stella, you were blonde and sleek;
The star of the gymnastics squad, with cool guys lusting for your bod.

Each weekend you went on a date and shocked them with the chow you ate;
And after lusty college life, became a barefoot pregnant wife.
I’m saddened by your third divorce; in grief, you’ve eaten like a horse.
Your appetite exceeds your eyes, and so your belly does, likewise

Now at the age of 38, you’ve doubled both your age and weight;
Still muscular in butt and thighs, your waistline’s grown to twice it’s size.
Those jocks and trust-fund guys are wed, so you invite me to your bed …
Where, Stella, I let you take over; at love, you’re now a Supernova.